


Perturbations

by the_dragongirl



Series: A Shift in Equilibrium [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Episode III: Revenge of the Sith, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Anakin makes better life choices, Angst, Canon-Typical Violence, F/M, Families of Choice, Fix-It, M/M, Minor Character Death, Obi-Wan does not have healthy ways of handling his feelings, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-05
Updated: 2016-03-22
Packaged: 2018-05-24 23:42:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 18,225
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6171397
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/the_dragongirl/pseuds/the_dragongirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anakin makes a different choice, the day Ahsoka leaves the Jedi Order. His actions will determine which of the many possible points of balance in the Force will become the new equilibrium.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to my beta crew, Lacefedora, Punsbulletsandpointythings, and Poplitealqueen, for edits, cheer leading, and general enabling. Without you three I would never have had the courage to write anything at all, let alone show it to the world.

Cover by the amazing [Poplitealqueen](http://poplitealqueen.tumblr.com)

 

It begins the day Ahsoka walks out of the Temple for the last time.

No, that’s not true. The truth is it begins a long time before that. It begins when the Council abandons one of their own to the mercies of the military and the Senate, to be killed for the crimes of another. It begins when Anakin is forced to hunt down his own Padawan, because he can’t trust his Order to bring her in alive, let alone safe. It begins when he sees the emptiness in his former Master’s eyes when he returns from Mandalore alone. It begins on Umbara, when his men were made to kill their own on the whims of a traitor, because he wasn’t. Fucking. There. It begins when so many more good men, HIS men, lay down their lives to take a planet that will be won and lost and won again, traded between Separatists and the Republic like a toy in a children’s game.

It begins when the council sends this daring, bold, sweet girl into his care, and all he can think is “war is no place for a child.” Because, Force help him, they are all children, aren’t they? Every last clone who will never see his fifteenth birthday. Every Padawan sent into the worst of the fighting with little more than the soft life of a Temple-raised Initiate to prepare them. It begins when he’s holding his mother’s body in his arms, the blood of other children drying on his hands. So many children dead, dying, wounded, orphaned. All his fault. Because he let his actions, and his inactions, be guided by the Council. By the Code. By a set of out-dated, heartless rules that hold love to be a greater crime than indifference, and the heartless old Masters who enforce them. He followed them all, until he was the one that broke.

Maybe it begins when a frightened little slave boy who can never go home again stands before the Jedi Council and is told that there is no place for him. Anakin doesn’t know.

What he does know is that, when he says he understands more than anyone what it’s like, wanting to walk away from the Order, he means it. The Order is his life, but what kind of a life is it when every good and beautiful thing he has is twisted into a shameful secret, and the will of the Senate holds more sway than the will of the Force? When he isn’t even allowed to protect the ones he holds most dear? Now his Padawan is walking away from him, and she’ll be alone again. Alone, in a galaxy that is never kind, especially not to anyone who has ever borne the name Jedi.

He runs.

He runs after her, away from the Temple that is the only home he’s known since he left his mother behind. And when he reaches her side, she turns to look at him, and her eyes are older and sadder than he’s ever seen.

“Anakin…”

“Ahsoka, I abandoned you once, and I’m not doing it again. Maybe you’re right. Maybe this is something you have to do without the Council. Without the Jedi. But not without me. I’m coming with you, Snips. We’ll figure it out together.”

She looks at him for a long, silent moment. And then she smiles, for the first time in days, and holds out her hand.

 

* * *

 

Their first stop is, by necessity, to see Padmé. It’s been a long day for all of them, but this is the kind of news that needs to be delivered in person. And besides, whatever plans he and Ahsoka make from here, Padmé is going to be part of them.

Ahsoka gives him a dubious look when he tells her where they’re going. “I know Padmé’s your friend, Master, but she’s done enough for us already today. And besides, it can’t be good for her political career to be seen associating with a couple of ex-Jedi.” She pauses, considering. “And deserters. I mean, my military rank was never reinstated, but I’m pretty sure you just walked out of the military without leave, General.”

“I’m not your Master anymore, Ahsoka. You’re not a Padawan, and I’m not a Knight. I think we can leave the titles behind with the rest. And as for Padmé, well...she’s not exactly a friend.” Anakin shifts his eyes away. “She’s...she’s my wife.”

Ahsoka stares at him for a long moment. “You’re really serious, aren’t you? You actually went and _married_ her?”

Anakin sighs. “Look, this really isn’t the time or the place to discuss all the finer points of the Code that I’ve broken over the years. The important things is that Padmé and I, we’ve been in love for a long time, and we…”

“No, I knew that! I just didn’t think either of you would do something so _obvious_! I mean, were you trying to get caught?” Ahsoka’s nose wrinkles, as another thought occurs to her. “Blast! That means I owe Rex twenty credits.”

And then, all at once, her face falls, and sadness is back in her eyes. “If we ever even see him again.”

Anakin puts a hand on her shoulder. “Hey, Snips, one thing at time. We’ll talk to Padmé, figure out what our next step is, and go from there. We can worry about Rex, the military, and whatever else we have to deal with after that, okay?”

Ahsoka shrugs ruefully. “Yeah, sure. One thing at a time. Just like always.”

They hire a hover cab most of the way to Padmé’s residence. After all, Ahsoka may have been found innocent, but her face has been all over the HoloNet the last few days, and the last thing they need right now is some overeager civilian trying to turn them in because they haven’t caught the most recent broadcasts yet. At least the hover cab offers some modicum of privacy.

They pass the ride in silence. Anakin watches the city go past and tries to figure out how in the galaxy he is going to explain this to Padmé, his stomach tying itself in knots as he imagines her reaction. Ahsoka seems to be slowly giving in to the exhaustion of the last few days, slumping further and further into the seat. It’s almost startling when the cab stops outside the gates to the Senate Apartment Complex.

It is then, of course, that they both realize that neither of them were carrying any credits when they left.

“Good thing YOUR Temple account still works, huh?” Ahsoka asks, as Anakin swipes his credit chip in the reader. “Guess that’s another thing we’ll have to figure out.”

“I think that’s going to be the easy part. It’s everything else I’m worried about.”

It doesn’t take long for them get from the gates to the front room of Padmé’s apartment. Anakin’s private access codes get them through the layers of security and up the turbolift unescorted. Anakin can sense Padmé out on the veranda when they come in, and he pauses a moment to let the feel of her presence sooth him. Then he turns to Ahsoka.

“Hey Ahsoka, can you wait here for a bit while I go talk to Padmé? This probably isn’t the kind of news I should deliver in front of an audience.”

Ahsoka sits down on one of the many cream-colored sofas. “Sure thing, Anakin. I’ll be right here whenever you’re done.” She arranges herself in her favorite meditation pose, and closes her eyes. As he heads out to the veranda, he wonders idly if she’s been able to meditate at all since this whole mess started.

Padmé is seated on one of the padded benches when he enters, looking out over the city with a strange, thoughtful expression. She’s exchanged her senatorial gown for one of her flowing lounging robes, and her hair is hanging in loose waves down her back. She turns and smiles when she hears his footsteps, her contemplation replaced with the joy his surprise visits always produce.

“Ani! I didn’t expect to see you tonight!”

He sits down beside her, and she embraces him, giving him a soft kiss in greeting. The smell of her hair and warmth of her body against his own combine with the feel of her presence in the Force, and for the first time today, Anakin truly relaxes.

Padmé turns a questioning look on him. “Not that I’m not happy to see you, love, but I thought for sure you’d be at the Temple helping Ahsoka get settled back in.”

“Yeah, about that…” Anakin sighs. “Ahsoka won’t be returning to the Jedi Order.”

Padmé gasps in shock. “But she was innocent! The Council can’t possibly refuse to reinstate her over a false accusation!”

“No, they did offer Ahsoka her place in the Order back. Offered to promote her to Knighthood, actually. She refused.”

“Oh, Anakin,” Padmé breathes. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“Strangely enough, I’m not. I mean, after everything that happened, how could she ever trust the Jedi Order again? She was innocent, and they didn’t even try help her. None of them! And this isn’t even the first time they’ve betrayed us. They would have let you and Ahsoka die of the Blue Shadow Virus, rather than risk tracking down the cure. And what about that mess with the assassination plot on the Chancellor? They let us think Obi-Wan was dead, and Force, Padmé, he didn’t just go along with it; it was his idea. And he’s the best of them! If Obi-Wan can’t even be trusted, how can any member of Council? How can any Jedi?” Anakin stops, reining in his temper. Padmé is the last person who deserves to hear him shouting about this. After all, she did more to help Ahsoka than the whole of the Council combined. “Anyway, that’s actually why I’m here.”

He looks down to where his real hand is twined with both of Padmé’s. His decision is made, but he hasn’t actually said it aloud yet. It feels as though actually saying the words will somehow make it more real, more permanent. He takes a deep breath, steeling himself. “I’m leaving too, Padmé. After today, I will no longer be a part of the Jedi Order. I...I can’t be ”

She freezes, struck utterly speechless. She opens her mouth as if to say something, and closes it again. Then she looks into his eyes for a long moment, as if searching for something there. Finally, she says “I...understand.”

Of all the possible reactions he’d imagined on the cab ride over here, this was not one he’d considered. “You...do?”

She nods slowly. “Yes, I do believe so. I know you, Anakin, better than anyone else. I’ve seen how you’ve disagreed with the Council more and more as this war has progressed. The choices they’ve made...conflict has changed them. Not without reason, of course, but I would never have believed that Jedi would treat one of their own the way they treated Ahsoka. The sacrificing of others for the sake of maintaining Jedi ideals and image...that’s not you, Ani. It never was. And I’ve seen how it’s been tearing you apart.” She stares directly into his eyes, and brings one hand up to cup his cheek. “If the only way you can find to move forward is to do it away from the Jedi, then so be it. I love you, Ani. Not the Jedi Knight; not the General; _you_. That isn’t going to change”

Anakin leans into her touch, and closes his eyes. He can feel tears prickling, and after a moment, decides to let them come. Leaving the Order is the right thing to do; he can feel it in Force, and in his own heart. But if it meant losing Padmé, he’s not sure he would have the courage to do it, regardless.

“Oh, Ani…” She wraps him in a tight hug, and he curls into her, burying his face in her hair. They stay like that for some time; Padmé holding him, whispering comforting, loving nonsense to him as he silently cries out his frustration and fear and grief. A Jedi would never let their emotions rule them in such a way. But Anakin is no longer a Jedi, and here in the safety of his wife’s arms, he can finally let go.

Eventually, he runs out of tears. He pulls away from Padmé a little, to give her a grateful, if watery smile. She wipes his cheeks with the sleeve of her robe, then kisses him again. Then she straightens.

“Now, it seems we have some things to figure out,” she says, her eyes taking on a new glint of purpose. “Have you decided what you’re going to do next?”

“We haven’t actually figured that out,” Anakin rubs the back of his neck. “I honestly hadn’t thought much past getting here.”

“Wait, we?”

“Yeah, Ahsoka’s with me,” Anakin answers offhandedly. Then he pauses, eyes flicking back towards the door to the sitting room. “And she’s been sitting in there waiting for the last half hour.”

“Anakin!” Padmé swats his arm lightly. “You couldn’t have mentioned this earlier? I could have at least offered her tea or something. She’s had a harder few days that either you or me.” Padmé looks at him again, and sighs. “Oh, never mind. We should continue this discussion together, though, if Ahsoka’s choices are going to be tied to yours, and there are decisions to be made that shouldn’t be put off.” She pauses. “We’re going to have to tell her, Ani. About us, I mean. It’s not fair ask her to makes these choices without all the facts.”

“It’s already taken care of,” he reassures her, grinning slightly. “I told her on the way over. It seems we maybe weren’t as subtle as we thought. The only part that surprised her was that we’d make it official. Apparently, she and Rex were betting on it.”

Padmé sighs. “Of course they were. Well, I suppose that will make this discussion simpler.” She stands, resolute, and moves towards the sitting room door. Anakin follows her, marveling that, even with her robe wrinkled from their embrace and her hair mussed with his tears, she still looks in that moment to be every inch the queen she was when they met.

When they return to the sitting room, Anakin finds Ahsoka on the couch where he left her. At some point, however, it appears her exhaustion overrode her attempts to meditate. She’s sound asleep, curled up against the couch’s padded arm. He’s almost tempted to leave her there a while longer; this is the most peaceful he’s seen her look in a long time, and he’s certain that, after the week she’s had, she could use the rest.

But Padmé is right; there are decisions they need to make, and urgently. Coruscant is not a safe place for Jedi without the privileges of rank and the protection of the Temple, and Anakin doubts that their resignation from the Order will make any difference on that front. The lower levels are just too full of lowlifes looking for petty revenge, and bounty hunters looking for a big score. It seems unlikely that the Separatists will lift the bounties on either of their heads just because of a little thing like loss of official rank, and neither he nor Ahsoka has ever been particularly good at blending in and staying unnoticed. Padmé’s rank as Senator could probably protect them for a short time, but not without making their marriage public knowledge, which would be disastrous for her political career.

And besides, the longer they remain within reach of the Order, the higher the chance that the Council will find a way to interfere. Anakin wouldn’t put it past the Council to try to limit their movement, or dictate their involvement with the military or Senate, or mandate that they submit to some form of Jedi oversight. None of which is acceptable.

No, they’ll have to get offworld, and quickly. Which means they need to figure out where they’re going, how they’ll get there, and what they are going to do with themselves once they’ve arrived. All of these are decisions Ahsoka needs to be a part of.

Anakin comes over and puts a hand on her shoulder, shaking her gently. “C’mon Snips. Time to wake up.”

Ahsoka blinks awake slowly, peering up at him. “Nngh, Master? ‘m not asleep.”

“Sure you’re not,” he says. “And it’s just Anakin now, remember?”

“Oh.” She shakes herself the rest of the way out of sleep. “Oh, right.”  Then she spots Padmé behind him, and stand up quickly. “Padmé! I’m sorry; I didn’t mean to be rude. I just...your couch is very comfortable.”

Padmé huffs out a small laugh. “You’ve nothing to apologize for, Ahsoka. This has been a trying week for all of us, but especially for you.” She retrieves a datapad from one of the side tables, and sits down on the couch opposite Ahsoka. “Now have a seat. Anakin has explained the situation to me, but it sounds like there’s several important details you two have yet to work out.”

Ahsoka sits again, and Anakin crosses to settle himself next his wife. “Yes,” Ahsoka admits. “I didn’t exactly plan this out in advance, and I thought for sure I’d be alone once I left the Temple.”

“Well, you’re _not_ alone, Ahsoka,” Padmé say firmly. “Anakin considers you family, which means I consider you family as well. I will always be here to help you, and I do hope that you know that.”

“I...thank you, Padmé.” Ahsoka looks down, and adds, quietly. “That’s a lot more than I expected, from anyone.”

“Now, Anakin tells me that he hasn’t really given any thought to what either of you are going to do next. Have you?”

Ahsoka pauses, gathering her thoughts. “I… I thought I might see if I could trade labor for passage on a ship to one of the worlds in recovery. I need time to figure out who I am if I’m not a Jedi, but at the same time, I don’t want to just stand by while people are still suffering in this war. I thought maybe somewhere on the mid or outer rim, where the Jedi aren’t likely to go.”

Padmé turned to Anakin. “Ani, does that sound like something you could live with, at least for now? Joining the recovery efforts, I mean. There’s certainly no need for either of you to barter passage.”

Anakin considers. It feels incredibly foreign to imagine any future other than the endless rounds of battle that have been his life since the war began. But when he opens himself to the Force, there’s something about this idea that feels right. Like something that was out of alignment has suddenly locked into place. He’s never been much of one to meditate on his decisions (much to Obi-Wan’s chagrin...and Anakin is _not_ thinking about Obi-Wan right now), but he has learned to follow his instincts, and his instincts are telling him that Ahsoka is onto something here.

“Yeah, I think that could work,” he says.

Padmé nods. “Well then, I have something I would like to suggest to you both. Come to Naboo.”

Ahsoka frowns at her dubiously, but Padmé hurries to continue. “No, hear me out. The planetary government has been managing the recovery program for several worlds throughout the Chommell sector, since the Republic has no personnel to spare. Most of the staff who actually go into the field are volunteers, and unskilled ones at that, so they’re always short-staffed. I received a message from the program coordinator several week ago asking if I might be able to find anyone who was willing to relocate to Naboo and assist them. She’s an old friend of mine, and I know I can trust her discretion in keeping your previous status quiet.

“And when you’re not in the field, of course, my family has a retreat in the Lake Country. Anakin’s been there before. It’s very private, and the Jedi hardly ever come to the Lake Country anyway. Ani, of course, already has the right to it as my husband, and you’d be welcome there as our guest for as long as you like.”

Ahsoka is quiet for several minutes. Finally, she looks to Anakin, a question clear in her eyes. He nods without saying a word. She smiles, and turns back to Padmé. “Thank you, Senator. I accept your gracious invitation,” she says, her eyes twinkling.

Padmé grins back. “Excellent. I’ll send the coordinator word to expect you both.”  She flips on the data pad, and begins composing a message. “Transport to Naboo for you both should be no problem. There’s a diplomatic courier headed out tomorrow morning, and it shouldn’t be difficult to secure you both berths on it, as volunteers for the Chommell Relief Program. Anakin is already a citizen of Naboo, and as Senator, I can issue you a long-term visa, Ahsoka.”

Anakin squints at Padmé. “Since when am I a citizen of Naboo?”

Padmé rolls her eyes. “Honestly, Ani, did you read _any_ of the forms you signed when you married me?”

Anakin smirks. “In my defense, you were _very_ distracting,” he says, and Padmé’s expression softens.

“Force,” Ahsoka says. “It’s a wonder the whole galaxy doesn’t know about the two of you by now.”

Padmé blushes and clears her throat, before continuing. “Now, I take it you’ve both submitted your formal resignations to the Jedi?”

Anakin rubs the back of his neck. “Actually, we didn’t quite get that far.”

Padmé frowns. “Did either of you make _any_ preparations before you left?”

Ahsoka and Anakin look at each other. Neither says a word.

Padmé sighs. “Of course you didn’t. Why did I even ask?”

“I didn’t really think there were any preparations I _could_ make,” Ahsoka says. “I figured, once I refused to rejoin the Order, that was it. I’d be on my own. It’s not like they were going to give me back my lightsabers or my military rank, and I’m sure my Temple credit account was frozen when they...well, there wasn’t really anything else I had that was worth sticking around for.”

“Actually..” Anakin reaches underneath his tabard, and pulls out Ahsoka’s sabers. “I held onto these for you. Didn’t want anyone to get any bright ideas about destroying them. I was sure you’d need them back soon enough.” He holds them out to her.

Ahsoka stares at the hilts in his grip, her eyes suddenly suspiciously bright. She stands, and takes them from him with shaking hands. “Thank you, Ma...um, Anakin. I...thank you.” She clips them swiftly to her belt, and it seems to Anakin that some small part of the universe that was out of joint clicks back into place as she does.

Padmé smiles softly at them both. “Well then, Ahsoka at least has that taken care of. Ani, why don’t you go ahead and make that call while I see what I can find for Ahsoka in the way of traveling clothes. I’ll have my sister arrange for more appropriate things to be waiting for you when you arrive at Varykino.”

Padmé hushes her with a gesture when Ahsoka moves to protest. “Now, don’t argue. I said you were welcome there as my guest, and I meant it. Hospitality is a very important part of the culture of Naboo, and I would be remiss as a host if I didn’t see that your basic needs were met. I’m just sorry that my duties in the Senate don’t allow me to accompany you now and see to it myself. Now, I’m sure I can find something in my wardrobe that will suit you for the time being.” She gently shoos Ahsoka down the hall to the bedroom, throwing a significant look over her shoulder at Anakin.

He smiles at his wife in gratitude. Ahsoka has been handling all of this remarkably well, with far more composure than Anakin himself could have mustered at her age. But he would really rather spare her from witnessing this conversation if he can. In the absolute best case, it will be awkward for everyone. At worst, there may be recriminations, and ugly words may very well be exchanged. The Jedi may well claim to be above such uncivilized displays, but Anakin knows from experience that the Jedi can be as petty as any other sentients when it comes to things that go against their traditions and sensibilities.

He straightens in place, breathing deeply to center himself. Then he pulls out his comm and sets it on the table, keying in the Council’s code for low priority messages. If he’s calculated right, the partial Council session he and Ahsoka walked out of should have dispersed by now, which means this code should put him through to…

“Jedi Council Secondary Message Line, this is Padawan Zonder.” The Selonian teenager who appears in the holo projection is roughly Ahsoka’s age, and has the bland, practiced tone known to every Padawan who gets stuck on administrative duty. Idly, Anakin wonders who this boy’s Master is, that he is answering comm lines instead of leading troops out on the front lines.  “If this is an urgent message I can redirect you to...Master Skywalker!”

“Easy, Padawan. My message is not urgent, I assure you. I just need to see that it is recorded and submitted to the Council whenever it’s next convenient. And, really, I’m no Master. You can just call me Anakin.”

“Err, well...that is...uh, yes, sir. One moment.” The Padawan leaves the holo image for a minute, and returns with a data pad in hand. He taps out a series of commands on it, and then nods. “You may continue. This message is now being recorded.”

Anakin takes a deep breath. Then he draw himself up, and says, “I, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker, do hereby resign my place in the Jedi Order. I forfeit all the rights and privileges thereof, including my rank as a General in the Galactic Republic Military.”

Anakin stops, trying to think of anything else he needs to add. In that moment, however, words seem to abandon him. After a long, awkward pause, the Padawan clears his throat.

“Ah, yes, sir. The Council acknowledges your resignation.”

Anakin stares at the boy in shock.

The boy scratches the back of one furry ear, in what Anakin can only assume is the Selonian equivalent of bashfulness. “It seems, uh, sir, that certain Masters of Council anticipated your course of action as a possibility. Master Kenobi left a message that I was to read in case of this eventuality.” The Padawan taps another command on his datapad, and begins to read. “The Jedi Council does hereby acknowledge the resignations of Master Anakin Skywalker and Knight Ahsoka Tano, and that these resignations were given in good faith by individuals in good standing, in service of the Light, and not in opposition to it.

“As such, it is the decision of the Council that they should be allowed to retain the Jedi weapons of their own creation, to serve in their continued defense during these dark times. Moreover, as Knight Tano achieved her rank before her departure from the Order, she and Master Skywalker are entitled to receive a severance stipend according to their ranks and in acknowledgement of their years of service.” The boy pauses. “I’m also supposed to ask you where the Order should direct your stipend and belongings to be sent, and former Knight Tano’s as well, if she is with you, but it says I don’t need to read that part word for word, and...”

Anakin tunes out the Padawan’s continued babbling. This is...this is not something he ever expected. He wonders briefly if this is some ploy to get him to change his mind. Are they hoping that the new rank will make him overlook their blatant hypocrisy of the last few days? That a title will buy them forgiveness for all their failings and betrayals? He’d like to believe that Obi-Wan wouldn’t manipulate him like that; but then, he’d also like to believe that Obi-Wan wouldn’t lie to him or fake his own _death_ , and Anakin knows that’s not true. The thought that Obi-Wan, of all people, can no longer be trusted burns in his chest.

This changes nothing, Anakin finally decides. The Force is guiding his footsteps now, and Ahsoka’s as well, and it is telling them both that now is the time make a clean break. Anakin can meditate on the Council’s actions and motivations later, when they are both safely beyond the reach of the Jedi.

“Senator Amidala,” Anakin says, interrupting the Padawan’s flow of words at last. “Anything that needs to be forwarded on to either me or Ahsoka can be sent to her. She’ll see that we get it.”

The boy makes a note on the datapad. Then, hesitantly, he says, “I’d like you to know, sir, that there’s a lot of us who understand why you’re doing this. Ahsoka...she and I were in the crèche together. She was always like a sister to me. Anyone who knows her could have told you that she’d never do anything like what they accused her of. And...I know it’s not my place to say so, but she deserved better of us. Of all of us. I’m...I’m glad to know she won’t be alone. Please tell her that I said so, and that we’ll miss her.”

Anakin smiles at the boy a little sadly. “Thank you, Padawan Zonder. I’ll let her know.”

Zonder nods solemnly. “May the Force be with you both, Master Skywalker.”

“Yeah,” Anakin says. “You too, Padawan.”

The image blinks off, leaving Anakin alone with his thoughts.

 

* * *

 

That night, as Anakin lays in bed with his wife curled against his chest, he think back to the boy’s parting words for Ahsoka. It’s easy to think of the Jedi as a monolith - one body with many limbs, all working towards the same goal. But the truth is, the Jedi are as much individuals as any other group of sentients, with motivations just as varied and occasionally conflicting. Hadn’t Barriss’ betrayal proven that? He wonders how many others there are like Zonder, quietly in disagreement with the Council’s actions, but unable or unwilling to stand against them openly. He wonders if the Council really speaks for the Order at all, these days, or if it just speaks to the Order, and they obey.

Also...it had never occurred to him before just how unalike his and Ahsoka’s childhoods in the Order had been. He never had crèche mates, because he was never in the crèche. Ahsoka had been taught to place her trust in the Jedi nearly all her life. To be abandoned by them like that...he can’t even imagine what that feels like, to someone who has never known a betrayal of that magnitude. Anakin, at least, learned early on that life isn’t always fair or kind, and that trust isn’t something you bestow lightly. He’s had friends among the Order of course, but other than Obi-Wan, none of them ever felt like family, like someone you could trust completely. And even Obi-Wan...well, Obi-Wan has made it clear that his duty comes before any loyalty he might have to Anakin or Ahsoka.  But Ahsoka, on the other hand...

He’s watched her give her heart time and time again: to her fellow Jedi, to the men under their command, to the people they help. And it hurts to think of how many pieces of herself Ahsoka must be leaving behind, how many people she will miss, and be missed by in return. And she thought she was going to be alone? Force, what courage it must have taken, for her to walk out the Temple doors in the face of that…

“Ani, you’re thinking too loudly. Stop it,” Padmé orders sleepily.

He grins down at her, and kisses the top of her head. Then he sighs.

“I am going to miss being with you here,” he murmurs.

She snorts. “Honestly, we’re not going to see that much less of each other than we have been.” She scoots up to look him directly in the eye. “Who knows? You might even see me more. At least this way I know that, when I come home to Naboo, you’ll be there waiting for me, instead of off getting yourself shot at.”  

She kisses his nose, and then curls back against his chest. “Besides, love, Ahsoka needs you. It’ll be good for both of you, being away from all of this. And you’ll both be doing good work out there. Now, go to sleep! You’ve an early shuttle to catch.”

Anakin smirks down at the top of her head, introspection broken, at least for now. He settles her more comfortably against him, pulls the sheet over them both, and closes his eyes.

 

* * *

 

They are up before sunrise the next morning. Padmé shoves a cup of caff and a bun into the hands of a bleary-eyed Ahsoka, who is sitting on one of Padmé’s couches again and watching Anakin swear profusely as he attempts to stuff both the spare tunics he had left in Padmé’s apartment into an already full flight case. Ahsoka is dressed in a spare handmaiden’s battle uniform that Padmé found crumpled in the back of her wardrobe, and a plain gray cape they had hastily modified the night before the allow for her montrals. She looks slightly bewildered, though whether that’s from the early hour, the unusual attire, or the events of the past week, Anakin couldn’t say.

He finally manages to shove the case shut, and Padmé takes it from him, setting it by the door and replacing it with another cup of caff.

“Sit down, love. We’ve a few minutes yet before the car arrives.” Padmé reinforces the instruction with a gentle shove in the direction of the nearest couch, and Anakin sits, doing his best not to spill the caff all over the cream-colored upholstery. Padmé sits beside him, taking his unoccupied hand in hers.

“I’ll forward your things on from the Temple with the next diplomatic courier, if I don’t find a freighter heading for Naboo sooner than that, “ she says. “And I’ll do my best to make sure R2 is with them. It may take me longer than that to pry him out of Temple hands, but I think they’ll find he’s still registered to me, if they check. And who knows? Maybe things in the Senate will have quieted down enough by then that I can come myself.”

She gives Anakin a sidelong look, then turns to Ahsoka, and asks hesitantly, “Are you sure there aren’t any more messages you would like to send before you go? Personal ones? I’d be happy to see that any you record get passed along to the appropriate parties.”

Ahsoka bites her lip, and shakes her head. Anakin, however, considers it for a time. It seems that he should at least send a message to the Chancellor. After all, his old mentor had done his best help to Anakin over the years, and it wasn’t _his_ fault that the Senate was allowed to hold that sham of a trial. But...what would Anakin even say to him? How would he explain why he is abandoning the war effort, after all the conversations they’ve had about its necessity? Palpatine is a kind and fair man, and a good leader for the Republic, but he can’t feel the currents of the Force. He would never understand why this is the only path Anakin can take and still be able to live with himself. And besides, the Council might press Palpatine to tell them where Anakin’s gone, and Anakin would never want to put him in a position of having to keep secrets from the Jedi.

He also toys briefly with sending a message to Rex, but rejects that idea out of hand. Any communications sent to one of the Clone troopers by a civilian would have to pass through layers of Republic Intelligence first, and none of what Anakin has to say to his former Captain is anything he wants some bureaucrat from Intel dissecting. Hopefully he’ll find a way to get word to Rex once they’ve settled in on Naboo, but for now, that will have to wait.

He could, he thinks, send a message to Obi-Wan. Not telling him where they’re going, of course, but at least letting him know...what? That they’re safe? Obi-Wan is enough of a Jedi Master than he should be able to tell that in the Force. That Anakin forgives him? Anakin’s honestly not sure that he does. Obi-Wan just stood there while the Order cast Ahsoka out. He didn’t fight for her. He didn’t lift a finger to find the real killer, or even to ensure Ahsoka safety while Anakin investigated. For the love of the Force, if Anakin had been even a few minutes later, the Senate might very well have condemned her to death right then and there. And if Obi-Wan expects Anakin to thank him for the small favors of a title he can’t use, a stipend he can do without, and permission to keep his own damned lightsaber, well, he can just forget about it.

And what Anakin would really like to say, that he will always love Obi-Wan like a brother, even if he can never fully trust him again...no. Better to say nothing at all, than to hurt Obi-Wan because of things that can’t be changed. They’ll make a clean break from the Jedi, from _all_ of the Jedi, and it will be enough. It will have to be.   

“Nah, I think we’re good, right Snips?” Anakin glances down at his chrono. “And it’s just about time for us to go.” He chugs down the last of his caff, leaves the cup on the low table in front of them, and wraps Padmé in an embrace, giving her a soft, lingering kiss.

“I love you,” he whispers against her lips, memorizing the smell and the taste and feel of her in his arms against the long separation to come.

“And I love you,” she murmurs back. Then Anakin stands, and Padmé turns to Ahsoka. “Look out for him for me, will you? I’m rather attached to him, and we both know he can be somewhat reckless without someone there to keep him in line”

Ahsoka grins at her. “I’ll do my best to keep Skyguy in one piece until you get there,” she says, a hint of her previous, carefree self in her voice.

“I’ll hold you to that,” Padmé says. “Safe journey, both of you.”

And with that, Anakin and Ahsoka walk through the door, descend the turbolift, and step out into the chill of the pre-dawn air.

 


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Anakin is not the only one affected by his actions. Obi-Wan has poor coping mechanism, and Rex tries to deal with the fallout.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, wow, folks. Thank you so much for the amazing response to the first chapter of this! Seriously, words can't begin to describe how much your kind feedback has meant to me. Thanks also to my usual beta crowd (Lace, Puns, and Pop, my darlings) for your edits and fact-checking.
> 
> Also, if you enjoy my writing, you might consider checking me out on tumblr, where I am [the-dragongirl](http://the-dragongirl.tumblr.com). I post a lot of stuff there, including some ficlets that are too short to post here on ao3. I also put out previews there occasionally. So, if you're interested, you should check that out.
> 
> Finally, small content warning. This chapter contains some references to characters being concerned about possible self-harm. These discussions are non-graphic, and there is no actual self-harm in this chapter.

It’s not that Rex isn’t grateful.

When he was first notified that they were being reassigned, Rex had nightmares about another Krell. About a General who would treat the lives of his brothers like they were disposable, who would take their duty and their loyalty and use it up, use _them_ up, until there was nothing left of the 501st but broken bodies on the battlefield. And even in his waking moments….well, there were very few Generals to spare, so the chances of them being assigned to someone inexperienced or unskilled were high, and Rex knew that an incompetent commander could get his brothers just as dead as a malicious one.

Finding out they were being combined with the 212th and sent back to General Kenobi’s command had been a relief in comparison. The oldest members of the 501st had served under him directly early in the war, and all but the newest of the shinies had worked with him before on combined operations with the 212th. They knew his command style, his fighting skills, his tactical brilliance, and (most importantly) that he was a General who respected the lives of his men. So, really, if they had to lose General Skywalker and Commander Tano, this was by far the best they could have hoped for.

And Rex would nothing but thankful, if it weren’t for....

“Oh, kriffing hells! Sir, he’s done it again.”

That. The fact that Rex can’t take his eyes off General Kenobi for five seconds without the Jedi leaping into the worst of the fighting without backup, and nearly getting himself killed.

Rex sighs internally, and lowers his macrobinoculars. He turns away from the edge of the bluff, where he had been overlooking the bulk of the fighting contained in the valley below, and faces the trooper manning the comms. “Report. Where’s the General got himself off to this time?”

The shiny straightens, and salutes with exaggerated crispness. Hells, but Rex feels old these days. He could swear they’re sending them out of Kamino younger and younger with each new deployment. What’s this kid’s name? Jax? Jazz? It used to be that Rex knew the name of every brother he served with, but there are so many new kids sent out into the field these days that Rex often doesn’t have time to learn a thing about them before they’re...well.

“General Kenobi has run out ahead of the western flank, Captain Rex, sir.”

Rex pinches the bridge of his nose. “And I don’t suppose he actually thought to bring backup this time, did he?”

“No, sir. Commander Cody is trying to lead a group out to him, but he requests that you set a couple of snipers to watch the General’s back until he gets there, if you can spare them.”

“Right. Tell Commander Cody he’ll have his snipers momentarily.” He shouts over to the troopers already in position twenty feet further down the ridge. “Tram! Birdsnest! Focus ahead of the western flank! It seems the General has gotten ahead of us again, and could use someone to watch his back while we catch up.”

Rex turns back to cliff, raising his macrobinoculars again, focussing out beyond the lines to the west. Sure enough, there is General Kenobi, in the thick of a knot of battle droids. He’s making decent headway, as the smoking rubble of droid parts around him can attest, and he’s certainly doing a good job of keeping their focus on him, rather than on the troops. But as Rex watches, he sees the scorch mark over the General’s ribs on the right hand side, and notices how he winces whenever he twists too vigorously in that direction.

Blast it all! This is the third injury the General’s sustained in the last two weeks alone! Rex could swear that Kenobi didn’t fight this recklessly before. Of course, he’s always been a little crazy (he is the one who trained _Skywalker_ , after all), but this jumping out ahead of backup is new. So, for that matter, is his high injury rate.

Rex lets out a breath in relief when Cody and his men reach the General’s position, and mop up the last of the droids in that area. The tide of the battle seems to be turning at last, and, more importantly, their General is no longer fighting it alone.

 

* * *

 

Cody and Rex are standing around the holoprojector set up in the center of the makeshift command post, inputting data of the course and aftermath of the battle in preparation for the status report to the Jedi Council. Normally, General Kenobi would be there with them, since the reports to the Council are, technically, his job. However, Cody had somehow gotten the General to actually report to medical and have his injuries looked at (Rex thinks Cody may actually have had to pick Kenobi up and carry him there to do it). That is rare enough that neither of them are at all inclined to disturb him for something so trivial as reports. They can manage on their own, for now.

Looking at the data, Rex has to admit, the aftermath of the battle is looking pretty good in terms of sheer numbers. The casualty rates are much lower than he’d expected given the kind of resistance they were facing. They shouldn’t need any fresh troops this time, and they should be able to manage resupply of damaged weapons and armor from the stock they already have. The people of Dantooine won’t be too pleased with the cleanup needed for all that droid debris, but then, they weren’t too pleased to see the war returning to their world after General’s Windu’s last victory, either. And even combined, the 212th and 501st don’t have the time or resources to assist in anything more than the most basic of recovery efforts. The locals will just have to cope.

Rex has just finished filling in the estimation of enemy losses when Kix arrives in the command center, with a face like an impending thunderstorm. Rex has seen Kix angry before (he tries not to think about the fury in Kix’s voice during that shitshow on Umbarra, because, kriffing hells, he should have listened, should have listened to them all, should have stopped the traitor before...no, he’s _not_ thinking about it), but never quite like this. Kix is usually one to let his feelings out and be done with it. But now he is disturbingly composed, as though something is building up under the surface, to be released later in one torrential outburst.

“Commander,” he says. “Captain. Can I have a word with you both?”

Cody nods, looking a little wary. “Go ahead, Kix.”

Kix glances around pointedly at the other troopers in the command center. “In private, sir.”

Cody looks over at Rex, who shrugs. His mouth tightens, and then he nods. “Alright, then. Follow me.”

He leads them both a short way into the grasslands behind their camp. It’s not exactly secluded, since they are still within easy shouting distance of the command center, but then, it’s about as much privacy as can be expected in the aftermath of battle.

“How’s our General, Kix?” Rex asks.

The medic’s mouth twists. “Glancing blast wound to the side, sir. Possibly more than one, from the look of it. Two broken ribs, three more just bruised, and burns of varying degrees all down that side. Honestly, he’s damned lucky he didn’t pierce that lung. And even with all that, I still had to sedate him to get him to hold still long enough for me to get the area clean and covered, and to wrap those ribs up. He kept trying to insist he was fine, and that I should focus on ‘those whose injuries are actually serious.’”

Cody stared at Kix for a moment. “...you actually managed to sedate General Kenobi this time?”

Kix snorts. “Well, sir, he’s given me a lot of practice these last few months, especially lately. I’m getting faster.” Then he his face sobers again. “And he’s damned tired. Frankly, Commander, that’s what I need to talk to you both about.”

Rex sighs. “Look, Kix, I know the General’s been...a little reckless lately, but…”

“No, Captain,” Kix interrupts, hands balling into fists. “We are not just going to write this one off. I’m a battlefield medic. I’m not even supposed to be _treating_ the Jedi except in absolute emergencies, because usually, the Jedi either don’t get hurt at all, or get hurt badly enough that they need more help than I can give them. But ever since we combined with the 212th, General Kenobi has been my most frequent patient. And I can’t ignore that anymore.”

He turns to Cody. “Commander, may I speak plainly?”

Cody half-grins at Kix, weariness plain on his face. “I don’t see that I can stop you.”

Kix scowls at that, but presses on. “Frankly, sir, if I had a trooper coming into medical this often, I'd have to recommend him for psyc eval. He is taking unacceptable risks with his safety, and it’s getting worse.” He looks Cody straight in the eye. “If someone doesn’t do something about this soon, sir, I think there’s very real chance that we’re going to have a dead Jedi on our hands.”

There is silence at that, Kix’s words hanging between them like smoke.

“Cody,” Rex says, as gently as he can manage, “I don’t remember General Kenobi being like this in the early days. I mean, he never exactly played it safe, but he could usually get through a battle in one piece. And we may not have been around him as much after General Skywalker took us on, but he still seemed to be holding things together. He...what changed? How did he get this bad without the Jedi noticing?”

Cody sighs, and rubs a hand over his face. “I can’t say that I know, exactly. General Kenobi’s never been the kind to spare himself in combat. He won’t ask his men to take a risk that he won’t take himself. And I have always respected that about him. All of us have. But...ever since General Skywalker resigned, it’s like every time we go into battle, he has to find whatever damned place has the most Seppies shooting at us, and go stand in front of it.”

He grimaces, and looks down. “And I’ve tried everything I can think of to get him to talk to someone about it. I’ve tried asking him. He just says it’s his job to protect the men under his command, and of course doing that job means taking a few risks. I’ve tried slipping it into the battle reports. The Jedi Council doesn’t seem to have even noticed, let alone called him on it. Hells, I even tried mentioning it to that Senator friend of his, when the man was inspecting that refugee camp back on Nakadia, but I didn’t have long to talk to him, and I don’t think he understood a word I said before General Kenobi dragged him away.”

He looks up at Rex. “And honestly, I haven’t wanted to push things too hard. General Kenobi may be going through a rough patch right now, but he’s _our_ General, Rex. I don’t want to lose him. And I certainly don’t want to see what they’d replace him with if he had to be pulled from the field.”

“Well you’re kriffing well going to find out, if we can’t put a stop to this,” Kix snaps.

Rex quells him with a look. “You’re out of line, trooper.” But he lets his face soften a little, and turns to Cody. “Look, let me give it a try. He and I got to talking a fair amount during that whole mess with the Zygerrians. Maybe I can get him to open up if I come to him as a friend, instead of as his second in command.” Rex pauses, and then adds, hesitantly, “and if that doesn’t work, maybe we can get a message through to General Skywalker. If anyone would know how to get General Kenobi to listen, it would be him.”

Cody gives him a sudden, searching look. “I thought nobody knew how to find him, or Commander Tano. Last I heard, after they resigned, they disappeared completely.”

“Right, that’s the general story,” Rex says. He hesitates, and rubs the back of his neck, considering. Finally, he says, “Look, this goes no further than the three of us, alright? But...two month ago, when we were on Coruscant for a couple days, remember? I received a letter. An actual written letter, mind you, on flimsiplast. Nothing traceable. But it was from General Skywalker. Or, well, it was his handwriting, and it sure as hell _sounded_ like him.”

Rex looked out across the grasslands, his thoughts seemingly light years away. “He said...well, he said a lot of things. That he was sorry about him and Commander Tano leaving like that, without a word, but that they had to do it for everyone's safety. That they to had make sure the Jedi couldn’t follow them, if they were ever going to have any kind of freedom. That there are things about the Jedi Order that were going wrong, things he couldn’t tell me, and he and Ahsoka couldn’t be a part of them anymore. That they were building a new life now, and he hoped one day I’d get a chance to do the same…”

Rex shook himself, and looked back to Cody. “Well, all that aside, he also said that if we ever really needed him, and I mean _really_ needed him, we could send word through Senator Amidala, and he’d find a way to reach us. I can’t say I’ve tried to follow through with it, but if things really get that dire with General Kenobi, I’m willing to make the attempt.”

Cody nods once, sharply. “Right. I think that’s a plan we can all live with.” He looks hard at Rex, and then at Kix. “I’m sure I don’t need to tell either of you that nothing said here goes beyond the three of us unless I say so, do I?”

Rex bring his hand up in a firm salute. “No, sir.” Kix echoes him, sounding relieved.

“Well then, I think we can declare this meeting over. Kix, knowing the General, that sedative you gave him will be wearing off soon, and you’ll need to be there when it does, if you want even a chance of keeping him in medical. Rex, you’re with me. We still have a report to finish.”

And with that, the three of them trudge back to camp, across the waving olive-green fields.

 

* * *

 

Rex’s opportunity comes two day later. The _Dauntless_ had arrived in orbit above Dantooine a mere handful of hours after the conclusion of battle with new orders for the Open Circle Fleet to make for Rhinnal. General Kenobi (who had managed to escape from Kix by then) had them loaded up and shipping out within an hour.

Once aboard, the General couldn’t avoid a trip to the actual medbay. With a four day hyperspace journey ahead of them, he couldn’t claim pressing duties this time, and no matter how good Kix’s field dressings are, there was no way he’d be ready to fight again when they reached Rhinnal without some more extensive form of treatment. The _Dauntless_ ’ medical officer had promptly thrown him in a bacta tank for a few hours, then ordered him on medical leave for the remainder of the journey, with strict instructions to sleep and eat properly in the meantime. General Kenobi had retreated to his quarters, and hadn’t been seen since.

Now Rex is wandering the halls on one of the lower decks, and he’s not even sure why. It’s the middle of the night according to the ship’s chrono; he’s just gotten off duty; and he had been intending to go back to the quarters he shares with Cody and read for a bit. He still has the last of those detective novels Commander Tano used to give him. She had sent him the first one as a joke back in her first month with General Skywalker, saying he needed a hobby to help him lighten up. He’d read it mostly to get the kid off his back, but it turned out that the novel had been...interesting. The plot had been entirely predictable, of course, and the detective in the story had shown a _terrible_ lack of basic combat skills, but it turned out that there was a certain comfort in a story that was so very...small. There were no worlds to be won or lost, no lives hanging in the balance of every little decision. Just a problem, one that would be solved by the end of the story with no one dead other than a few choice villains. Nothing in Rex’s life had ever been that simple.

The novels had become the basis of a real friendship with his young Commander. Whenever she was sent out with the fleet, she would bring him new novels, and ask him about the old ones. These conversations became more and more natural over time, and soon expanded to other topics: General Skywalker’s latest crazy stunts, the little dramas and romances among the troops, the quality of the field rations. By the time Commander Tano was out with the fleet nearly full time, they had moved on to more serious topics as well: the political course of the war, the conflict between the Jedi’s code and their military positions, what the role of the clones would be after the war was over. Commander Tano was his first friend who wasn’t also a brother, and she was his closest friend as well.

It was how he knew for sure the charges against her were complete bantha fodder. An attack like that was completely against her character, and the timeline didn’t even add up. Commander Tano was nowhere near Coruscant when the explosives would have been handed off that kriffing civvie terrorist. The fact that the Jedi and the Military both had been willing to blame her for it...well. He would never admit it in public, but privately, he’s glad she ran. Glad she and General Skywalker got out while they still could, even if it meant no more novels, no more late shift conversations, and no one to help him keep General Kenobi from falling apart. Rex may still be loyal to the Republic, but that doesn’t mean he trusts it. Umbara had taught him that loyalty can survive a lot of beatings, but trust is fragile, and something you had best reserve for the people you know are worth it.

Rex has been learning to better listen to his instincts when it comes to trusting people. And when it comes to trusting himself. Actually, when he thinks about it, it’s really those instincts that have him wandering the empty corridors on the lower decks, instead of holed up in his quarters. He can’t really explain it, but he has a feeling that he needs to be here.

He finally figures out why that is when he passes one of the empty common areas in an unused section of the crew quarters, and spots General Kenobi inside. He is seated on the floor, leaning up against the bulkhead with his forearms resting on his knees and a flask dangling from his right hand. He hasn’t even bothered to turn the on lights.

Cautiously, Rex steps inside the room. When the General doesn’t say anything, Rex sighs, and comes over to sit down beside him.

“You know, I really don’t think this is what the medics meant when they told you to rest.”

Kenobi snorts. “I’m on leave, aren’t I? If this is what I find relaxing, then I don’t see how it’s any of their business.” He takes another swig from the flask in his hand, pauses, and then offers it to Rex.

Rex accepts it, and takes a small sip. He manages (barely) to swallow it, and then stares at the flask. “What in the galaxy is this swill? It’s disgusting.”

“Mmm, yes, rather. But it does, I find, get the job done.” He accepts the flask back. “It’s properly called ardees, but it’s usually known by a more colorful name.”

They sit there in silence for a while. Rex can see why Kenobi likes this place. It’s quiet, and private; both things which are hard to find on a star destroyer. But the fact that he came here to drink alone in the dark is not exactly encouraging.

“You know, some of the men are worried about you,” Rex says at last.

“Are they now?” Kenobi replies, with a nonchalance that Rex can’t believe would fool anyone.

“Seems like you’ve been getting injured an awful lot lately,” Rex continues. “A lot more than any of us are used to seeing from a Jedi. And a lot more than you used to.”

“Is that all?” Kenobi asks. “They really needn’t concern themselves. War is a risky prospect. It’s only natural that sometimes this fact will result in…”

“You can cut the crap, General,” Rex interrupts. “Maybe you can get your Jedi Council to buy that pile of poodoo. Maybe you can even fool Cody. But we both know that I’ve seen you lower than this before, sir. I can tell when you’re keeping up a front, and it’s not gonna fly with me. You’ve been taking risks with yourself that no Jedi would without a damned good reason, and you’ve been doing it more and more since General Skywalker left. What I want to know is why. Are you trying to get yourself killed? Because if you are, there’s a hell of a lot of easier ways to do it than throwing yourself in front of a bunch of Seppies.”

There is silence for a long moment after that, and Rex wonders if he has gone too far for even the General’s patience. Kenobi has never been one to stand on rank with his men, and Rex truly does consider him a friend, but there are still lines one does not cross with one’s commanding officer.

But then Kenobi sighs, and says, “Well, I can see Anakin continued his habit of spreading certain choice Hutt vocabulary. And no, I am not trying to do myself harm, Rex. It’s just that…”

He sighs again, takes another drink from the flask, and continues. “You know, I think, some of what went on when Ahsoka was arrested. Force knows the media made certain details public enough, and I imagine Anakin would have shared what information he had with you during the ordeal. What you don’t know, and what I’m not sure Anakin knew either, was how much of the whole mess was an attempt on the part of the Order to balance a very delicate political situation.

“The fact is, Rex, that the Jedi Order has been put in an increasingly precarious position as this war drags on. The Jedi were never meant to be military leaders. For thousands of years, we kept the peace as representatives of the light, bringing justice and aid to the people of the Republic. Everyone knew that Jedi could be trusted as negotiators and arbiters and warriors because we had no other interests to serve. Our immunity from many more minor laws and customs, our legal powers within the Republic, our very credibility are all based on this.

“But since this war began, we’ve been losing all of that, inch by inch. Our role in the military has left us without the time or resources to maintain many of our other duties. It has also forced us to limit our efforts to those worlds who have made clear choices about their political allegiances. And so, instead of a universal force for peace, the Jedi have become the enforcement arm of the loyal Republic. The Jedi have become inextricably linked to this war, and as it loses popularity, so do we.

“And that’s really what the whole mess was about. Mistrust of the Jedi was at an all time high after the bombings, and there was increasing call for the Senate to be given more ‘oversight’ of the Jedi.” Kenobi snorts in disgust. “Oversight. More like control. The autonomy of the Jedi has been a thorn in the Senate’s side for years, and they’d be so very pleased to see it done away with entirely.”

The General stops, and breathes deeply. Rex waits in silence for him to continue.

“They didn’t ask for Ahsoka to be given over for military trial, you know. They demanded it. Most of the Council kriffing well knew that the evidence was circumstantial at best. I don’t think most of them even thought she was guilty. Well, maybe Master Rancisis. But certainly not Master Windu, or Master Yoda. But they were willing to hand her over anyway. We can’t risk antagonizing the Senate, they said. We must save what power we still have for truly important matters, not smaller issues that can be solved by other means. As it Ahsoka’s life and reputation were a small issue!” In the dim light from the corridor, Rex can see the General sneer at that.

“Do you know, they thought the whole thing would just blow over? Mace actually tried to argue that, if more hard evidence didn’t appear, they would have to find her innocent. Then we could reinstate her quietly and send her to a remote posting until it was forgotten. As if that would somehow fix everything. Plo and I tried to argue with them of course. Tried to tell them that the Senate was looking for someone to blame, and that they wouldn’t let a lack of evidence get in their way. Tried to remind them that Ahsoka was one of our own, and that the Order owed her the same protection we’d grant to any of our number, or at the very least the right to be tried internally. But they wouldn’t. Fucking. Listen!” That last was punctuated by Kenobi pounding his thigh with his fist.

He slumps then, and eyes the flask consideringly. Rex takes it from him, though, and drains the last of the contents himself. It burns going down, and taste certainly does not improve upon further acquaintance, but these are not revelations Rex wants to face sober, and besides, the General’s had plenty already.

“We had a plan, you know. Me and...ah, another Master on the Council. We weren’t going to let them execute her, no matter what the rest of our esteemed colleagues decided. Had it all worked out. He’d use his authority to get her out, and I’d cover for them long enough to get them both off Coruscant. Had to keep it a secret though. Couldn’t tell the others, or they’d stop up. Couldn’t even tell Anakin. He’d give the game away before we even got started. You know what he’s like when he thinks he has a secret. Force, you’ve seen him with Padmé. That’s his idea of subtle you know.”

Rex smirked at the memory. “Yeah, I do. Commander Tano and I had a bet on about it. Can’t say which of us won, though, with both of them gone.”

“At least they’re safe now,” Kenobi says, and his voice is so incredibly weary. Rex has only heard him like this once before, shortly before they were rescued on Kiros. He had been close to the breaking point then, and Rex wonders just how close the General is to breaking now. “They won’t be political pawns again, neither of them. And I managed to strongarm the Council into agreeing to a few measures to protect them, so they won’t be defenseless or without resources.  I knew the moment Anakin walked out that door that neither of them would be back. And, well, I did what I could. I’m...I’m glad for them. Glad someone could get free of this.”

He looks over at Rex then, and even in the low light, Rex can feel all of the General’s focus on him. “But you and your brothers don’t have that choice now, Rex. Your lives are not expendable, not matter what anyone says. And so it’s my duty to see that you all live long enough to reach a time when your lives are your own.  I’m not trying to get myself killed; I’m really not. But if by taking a little more risk on myself, I can see more of you through to the end of this, then that is what I’m going to do. I refuse to fail in my duty again.”

“But sir,” Rex says, “We were made for the Jedi, not the other way around. It’s just as much our duty to protect you. So if we’re not expendable, then neither are you.”

The General smiles at him, and says, quietly, “You serve in your way, Captain. I serve in mine.”

Then he stands, and for all that he’s drunk far more than anyone would recommend for a man recently released from medical, he is steady on his feet.

“Now, I should probably go seek some of that rest the medics were insisting upon, and I’m sure I’ve kept you from your own bed long enough. Goodnight, Rex. Sleep well.”

And without a further word, General Kenobi walks out of the room and away down the corridor, leaving Rex alone in the dark. It is not until he is in bed with the lights out and Cody snoring gently in the other bunk that Rex realizes that, although the General may have explained his behavior, he never actually said that it would change.

 

* * *

 

It is utterly silent, except for an odd sort of ringing noise, and that’s...wrong somehow. Rex is fairly certain that it’s not supposed to be quiet. In fact, he thinks that there was actually a lot of noise quite recently, though at the moment he can’t exactly remember why. It’s also dark, and that doesn’t seem right either, but...oh, his eyes are closed. When did that happen? He tries to fix that, but opening his eyes turns out to be a lot harder than he thinks it should be, and it takes him several tries before he manages.

Opening his eyes doesn’t clarify things much, though. He can see flickering lights, and smoke, and...hey, there’s Kix. What is Kix doing here? Rex can see that he’s mouthing something, but he still can’t hear a blasted thing. He opens his mouth and draws a breath to tell Kix to speak up, when…

Pain. Oh, kriffing hells, the pain. His lungs are on fire, and he’s coughing; his mouth is filling with the taste of copper, and he can’t fucking _breathe..._

And then Kix is putting an oxygen mask over his face with one hand, and forming combat hand signs with the other. _Stay down. Breath. Injuries severe. Evac coming._

Rex does his best to obey, He stays as still as he can and fights through the breathing exercises they all learned as cadets, doing his best to suppress the pain and the spasming in his chest. When he has his breathing more or less under control, Kix nods, secures the mask in place over Rex’s face, and disappears from view again.

But now Rex remembers. The battle. The Seppies who got there far earlier, and in far greater numbers, than Intel reported. Coming out of hyperspace over Rhinnal with the battle already underway. The General ordering them to scramble the fighters, and Rex running from the bridge to the flight deck, with Boil and Flipside and Tinker close behind him, and then…

The explosion. Sithspit.

Very carefully, Rex turns his head in the direction Kix disappeared to. Rex can just see him tending to a trooper whose scalp is a bloody mess, and kriffing hell, is that shrapnel? His gorge rises at the sight, and he turns away quickly, closing his eyes again.

Rex loses track of time again as he lays there, drifting in and out. He’s fairly certain Kix must have drugged him at some point, since he’s not in complete agony, but he can tell from his body’s lack of responsiveness that his injuries probably go beyond the hearing damage and a case of blast lung. Eventually, though, he feels strong arms lifting him up and depositing him onto what he’s fairly certain is a hover stretcher. He opens his eyes again, and sees Cody walking swiftly by the gurney’s side.

He knows better than to try and speak again, but his hands at least still seem to be in one piece and responding to his commands, so he signs, _Status?_

Cody looks down at him, the worry clear on his face, and signs back. _Battle won. Evac of injured to planetside medical facility in progress. Stay down._

Rex considers this for a moment, and then signs, _...General?_

Cody almost smiles at that. _Status satisfactory. Uninjured._

Rex relaxes at that. There’s a lot more that he’d like to ask, but the pain is getting worse, and he’d really rather not be awake when whatever Kix gave him wears off entirely. He closes his eyes, and lets the exhaustion pull him under again.

 

* * *

 

It’s strange, being in a medical facility that treats more than just clones. Usually, the Kaminoans are so fussy about any of the clones being treated outside of designated military facilities (something about “protecting their intellectual property”, which Rex has always tried not to think about too hard) that the military decides it isn’t worth the fuss and expense of allowing outside medical care. But the Jedi Chapter House on Rhinnal had insisted on having the most critically injured from the battle treated here, at the Rhinnal State Medical Academy, rather than risk transporting them to a more distant military medical station. Since the Jedi Council had backed them, and even offered to pay the cost difference in their treatment out of the Temple coffers, the military had ignored the Kaminoan’s objections, for once.

Rex can’t deny that it’s an incredible place, now that he’s finally awake and mobile enough to enjoy it. His first few weeks here had been filled with procedure after procedure to piece his damaged lungs and ears back together, as well as to repair a spinal fracture he hadn’t even noticed at the time. He hadn’t seen much of anything during the seemingly endless rounds of surgery, sedation, and bacta. But now that he is out of intensive care, his physical therapy has progressed far enough for him to stay awake for more than an hour at a time, and he can even get up out of bed to hobble around on his own occasionally. And he can begin to see why this place has a reputation as the gem of galactic healthcare.

There’s no doubt in his mind that these people have a mastery of medicine beyond anything he’s ever encountered. He’s always thought of the clinical suites on Kamino as state-of-the-art, but they have equipment here that he’s never even heard of, let alone seen, and it’s clear they know how to use it. Also, most of the care is provided by actual people, instead of medi-droids. He’s no medic, but he can tell that the doctors here are experts of a caliber that no wounded clone has likely had access to before.

The whole place is also shockingly beautiful. The wide corridors are tiled in elegant stone mosaics, and walls are painted in soft, natural colors. Art from over a dozen systems is displayed at tasteful intervals, accented by the high ceilings and graceful arches of the architecture. The facility is built in a wide ring around a central courtyard, landscaped with the planet’s verdant native flora, and interspersed with winding pathways and carved benches.  A high, shimmering energy field overarches the whole courtyard, trapping heat within to allow the patients to go out without suffering from the planet’s naturally chilly temperatures. The room they currently have him in has tall, broad windows facing that courtyard, so even when Rex is hurting too much to get out of bed, he can still use the room’s controls to open those windows and fill the room with the smell of growing things.  It is the most luxurious place Rex has ever slept in his life, and he doesn’t even have to share it with anyone.

Oddest of all, the medical staff here don’t seem to be treating the clones any differently from their other patients. He’s not been referred to by his designation once since he arrived. Ever since he regained consciousness, they’ve explained the procedures they want to attempt, and for the first time in his life, Rex has actually been asked for his permission to be treated. The staff seem just as concerned with his comfort and recovery as they are with that of the other beings he’s seen here. From what the other clones being treated here have told him, it’s been the same for them.

There’s only about 20 of them left here now, but all of the clones who made it as far as the planet have survived. Rex is the only member of the 501st remaining at this point, since Tinker went back to the fleet a week ago (Flipside, Rex had found out, had never made it off the ship. One more name for the list of the fallen.) Boil, though, is still here. That nasty head wound of his had needed almost as many surgeries as Rex’s lungs, requiring partial reconstruction of his skull, as all as repair of the tissue damage done by the shrapnel, and his rehabilitation has been even more extensive. It’s sobering to realize that, given the severity of their injuries, there’s a good chance that both of them would have been ruled unsalvageable at a military medical center, and simply been made comfortable until the inevitable occurred.

Rex is making his slow way out to the courtyard when one of the orderlies finds him. He usually tries to meet Boil out there at this time of day, since this is when Boil’s daily speech therapy session ends, and he usually appreciates a friendly face after that. Today, however, he gets only halfway there before he is interrupted.

“Pardon me, Captain Rex,” the brightly-dressed being says, “but we have received a holocall for you from your fleet. We have sent it to patient communications room seven. Did you wish to receive it now?”

Well, that’s...odd. Cody had messaged him once when he’d first regained consciousness to see how he was doing, but he hadn’t expected to hear from anyone again for at least a few more days. The doctors had been fairly insistent that they couldn’t even discuss releasing him until then. But still, it must be urgent, if they’re contacting him so far ahead of schedule. He nods to the orderly, and follows them back inside, then a short distance down the main corridor to where a set of small communications booths are discretely tucked away behind doors of amber-tinted glass.

The orderly gestures to one of the doors, whose entrance panel is lit with a discrete blue “reserved” sign. When they place their palm over the reader, the door slides quietly open. “Your holocall should be waiting in here, Captain. Will you be in need of any assistance?”

“No,” Rex says. “I should be able to manage from here. Thank you.”

With a nod, the orderly sets off down the hall, and Rex steps into the booth. It’s a sparse little compartment, containing only a small holoprojector, a discrete control panel, and a padded chair into which Rex lowers himself gratefully. He may be on the mend, but that was still the longest he’s walked outside of a therapy session since his injury.

The control panel displays a blinking notification for a call being held. Rex swips a fingertip over the screen to resume, and the image of Cody appears on the screen in front of him. Even in the small, grainy holoimage, Rex can see that Cody’s posture is rigid with tension.

“Commander. Do you have orders for me.”

“No, no orders, Rex. I...look, I’m sorry to ask while you’re still on medical leave, but...that situation we talked about with Kix?  Things are escalating. I think we need to implement that alternative plan you suggested.”

Rex bites back the urge to swear. “How bad is it, Cody?”

“Not...dire. Not yet, anyway.” Rex can see the weariness like a weight on his brother’s shoulders. “But I don’t think we can afford to hold out for things to resolve on their own.”

Rex nods once, sharply. “Right. I’m not sure how long it will take to make contact, once the doctors let me out of here, but I’m guessing it’ll be at least a week or two. Can you put in the paperwork to get the time approved?”

Cody lets out a breath, the relief evident on his face. “I can do one better than that. I told the General you might have something to request of him when I called you. He’s...well, let’s just say he didn’t take your being injured like that very well. I don’t think he’d refuse you much of anything right now. I’ll go get him, yeah?”

“No time like the present,” Rex replies. Cody disappears from the hollowimage, and Rex waits.

It doesn’t take long for the General to take Cody’s place. “Captain. It’s good to see you up and about.”

Rex nods in greeting. “It’s good to see you too, sir.” It’s not quite a lie. It is good to see his General’s face, and to know firsthand that Cody’s assurances that things are not yet dire are, in fact, accurate. But Rex is disturbed to see how gaunt and tired the General is looking. It’s like the war is slowly eating away at him, leaving behind only the most essential parts.

“I understand you have something to request of me?”

Rex blinks out of his contemplation. “Ah, yes, General. I’d like to request a couple week’s personal leave, after the doctors here release me, and permission to do a bit of traveling.”

Kenobi stares at him for a long moment, and then asks, “I don’t suppose you’d like to tell me where you’re going, would you?”

“I’d...really rather not, sir, if it’s all the same to you.” Rex will lie to the General if he has to, in order to ensure Skywalker’s privacy, but he’d really rather not have to resort to that.

Kenobi looks at him for a moment longer, then sighs. “Of course you wouldn’t. Well, I don’t suppose there’s any reason to say no. It’s not as though delaying your return by a week or two is going to lose us this war. Just…” he heaves a small sigh. “Just don’t travel alone, alright? The galaxy is a dangerous place right now, and I’d really rather not lose you just before we’re about to get you back. I understand that Trooper Boil is due to be released soon as well. I’m sure he could use a few days leave as well. Take him with you, would you? If that doesn’t interfere with your personal business, that is.”

Rex snorts lightly at that. “No, sir, I think that will be fine. And, thank you. I know it’s irregular of me.”

“There’s no need to apologize, Captain. And, if you should see…” He pauses, and for that one brief instant, he looks so lost. “No, never mind. Forget I said anything. Be careful out there, Rex. We’ll be looking forward to your safe return.”

“You too, sir,” Rex replies, sketching a salute as best he can in the small communications booth. Kenobi nods, and disappears from the display.

Cody steps back into view. “I’ll see to it that the right paperwork gets put into place as well, but with the General’s direct permission, you shouldn’t have any problems. Safe journey, Rex. We’ll see you soon.”

“See you soon,” Rex replies, then reaches over to the control panel and ends the call.

He pauses for just a moment, staring absently at the now darkened holodisplay.  Then he reaches for the control panel again, configures it for an outgoing call, and enters a code he had memorized three months ago, but not yet had occasion to use.

Rex fully expects the call to go through to some kind of messaging system. He’s more than a little shocked, then, when the Senator herself appears on the display, looking less than pleased.

“There aren’t many people who have this code, and none of them should be on Rhinnal, so do you mind explaining...Oh!”

“Ah, sorry, Senator,” Rex stammers. “I...I didn’t realize this number was your personal code! I just…”

“I know I’ve told you before to call me Padmé, Rex. And there’s no need to apologize” she says, obvious irritation evaporating, replaced by a look of pleased surprise. “ It’s been a long time. I’m glad to see you up and about, though. Obi-Wan mentioned you’d been badly hurt at the Battle of Rhinnal, and you had us all worried. Can I assume you got this number from a certain mutual friend of ours?”

“Yes. That is..our, erm, friend said that if I needed to reach him, I should comm you at this code, and you could arrange something.”

Her expression sobers instantly. “How bad is it?”

Rex stiffens. “I never said anything was…”

“Rex,” she interrupts firmly, “you only ever used to comm me when Anakin got lost, captured, or hurt badly enough that he couldn’t comm me himself. Given the current situation, I can’t imagine you’d be trying to make contact now for anything that was less than vital. Now, can you tell me what it is?”

He sighs. “I really don’t think it’s something that should discussed over a holocall, Sen...ah, Padmé.  Is there any way you could arrange for me to talk to our ‘mutual friend’ in person?”

Padmé bites her lip. “It might take me some time to make the arrangements, but I can see to it. How long will you be remaining on Rhinnal?”

“I should be able to get the doctors here to release me in four or five days, and I’ve got two week’s leave after that. Will that be enough?”

She nods slowly. “Yes, I think I should be able to make that work. Will it just be you?”

“Ah,” Rex rubs the back of his neck. “No, actually. General Kenobi didn’t want me travelling alone, so I’ll be bringing another trooper with me. But his discretion can be trusted, I know.”

“Alright.” He can see the thoughts churning behind her eyes, plans already forming. “I’ll be in touch with the arrangements as soon as I can. Expect a message from me no later than the end of the week.”

Rex nods. “Thank you, Padmé. I appreciate your help.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome, Rex. And, for what it’s worth, I know he’ll be glad to see you.”

“I hope so,” Rex says. “I really do.” Then he reaches over, and ends the call. He levers himself to his feet, and shuffles out of the communications booth and back towards the entrance to the courtyard.

He’s going to have some explaining to do, before Boil joins him on this particular mission.

 

* * *

 

Ten days later, Rex and Boil are disembarking from a small, discrete shuttle at the Theed Spaceport, with a small flight case each. And it’s...strange. Rex has traveled out of uniform before, for infiltration missions, but he’s never actually travelled as a civilian. But now he and Boil are both wearing anonymous civie togs, and carrying only the smallest of their blasters. It’s...peaceful, in an odd sort of way. No one in the crowd is paying them any particular attention. No one is asking anything of them. There’s no one here that he’s responsible for, except for Boil. And Boil’s recovered enough now that he can take care of himself.

Well, _almost_ no one is paying attention to them, anyway. He spots a figure off at the edge of the crowd. There’s nothing particularly notable about the person: a touch short, perhaps, but not unusually so. They’re decked out in a fairly anonymous grey cape with a high, peaked hood that hides their face in shadow. Yet Rex knows, the moment he sees her, that it’s his Commander, because seeing her feels like coming home.

Rex heads unerringly toward her, Boil following in his wake. She grins widely when she sees them, and strides forward. To Rex’s great shock, she throws her arms around him when they meet, and hugs him tightly.

“Rex! Oh, it’s so good to see you. I’ve missed you so much!”

He stands there a little stiffly, unsure how he’s supposed to respond to this. “It’s...good to see you too, Commander.”

Ahsoka snorts, but releases him at last. “I’m not your commander anymore, Rex. You can call me Ahsoka.” Then she grabs his shoulders, and holds him at arm's length, peering at him intently. “Padmé sent word that you’d been hurt a few weeks ago. You’re alright now, though, aren’t you?”

He smiles down at her. This, at least, is familiar territory. “Completely fine. The Order splurged on an actual hospital this time, instead of a medical base, and the doctors have been spoiling us both for weeks. I probably haven’t been in this good of shape since I was decanted.”

Ahsoka looks over Rex’s shoulder and, spotting Boil, releases Rex to offer him a smile in greeting. “Trooper...Boil, wasn’t it? From the 212th. Welcome to Naboo.”

Boil starts to sketch a salute, then appears to think better of it. “That’s right, sir...I mean, um, ma’am.”

She laughs at that. “You can call me Ahsoka too, Boil. Anakin will tell you; we don’t stand on ceremony here. And anyway, I haven’t held any rank to speak of for most of a year now.” She glances down at their small cases, and then back up to Rex. “If that’s all your things, we should probably get going. We still have a bit of a journey ahead of us, and we try not to linger too long in Theed, anyway.”

She leads them both to a non-descript hovercar parked in an out-of-the-way corner. “Normally, we just take speeders when we have to come into the city,” Ahsoka confides, tossing their cases into the hovercar’s storage bay. “But we’d need at least two to transport all three of us, and Skyguy was busy this morning. Some varnish that needed sanding, supposedly...well, I guess you’ll see when we get there.”

They drive for quite a while, passing through mile after mile of Naboo’s scenic countryside. Ahsoka chatters most of the way, telling Rex all about the work she and Anakin have been doing with the relief program, about rebuilding homes and planting crops and repairing infrastructure. She doesn’t mention the Jedi once, or ask about the war.

Rex add his bits to the conversation when necessary: nodding, or making small sounds of agreement or encouragement. Mostly, though, he just watches her. It’s hard to put his finger on it exactly, but there’s something about her that just looks so..light. It’s not the naivete he remembers when she was a teenaged girl newly sent to the battlefield, or the joy he used to see from her later in the war, when combat was going well. Instead, it’s like some great burden has been lifted from her, and all the obstacles that stood in her way have been removed. It reminds Rex of the feeling when a unit finally comes together, and is at last able to fight as one; whole, and strong, and easy, and _right._

After a couple hours, she pulls off onto a side road, which ends at a small shed by a lake. Ahsoka stops the hovercar and hops out, walking over to that shed, fiddling with the lock on the door. Rex eyes it dubiously. It really doesn’t seem large enough or well enough kept to be used as a home by _anyone_ , let alone by two former Jedi. But then Ahsoka comes back and reclaims the driver’s seat, steering the hovercar inside.

“Everyone out,” she says, cheerfully. “We’ll be taking a boat the rest of the way. There’s no roads out to where we’re going, and Naboo’s environmental laws forbid taking hovercars off road except in an emergency or by specific permit.”

She locks the shed’s front door, and leads them out the back way, which opens onto a small dock. She sets their bags down in one of several small, graceful boats moored there, and climbs in. Boil eyes the small craft a little dubiously; in spite of Kamino being a water world, and swimming being a part of every clone’s basic training, boats have never played a significant part in any of their lives. Rex, however, climbs in without hesitation. After all, he’s followed Ahsoka into worse situations without blinking. One little boat isn’t going to phase him.

Ahsoka is far less talkative on this leg of their journey, and that, too, seems fitting, somehow. The boat itself runs near silently, but the air is still filled with the sounds of unseen waterfalls and song birds, and the scent of flowers and water and rich soil. It feels like the whole of existence is filled with living, growing things, and the war is nothing but a distant and half-forgotten nightmare. Rex can see why his General would have chosen this place for his retreat.

They sail around a bend, and a great stone villa comes into view. Now this, Rex thinks, is a home befitting a pair of retired war heros. The gleaming domes seem to sparkle in the late afternoon sun, and many of the wide windows are open and fluttering with gauzy curtains. And there, waiting on the steps leading right down to water’s edge, is his General.

Anakin is grinning down at them as their little boat approaches. His customary dark robes have been replaced by a simple, loose tunic and trousers of undyed silk. His hair has gotten long, and is tied back in a messy tail at the nape of his neck. His skin is dark from days spent under Naboo’s sun.

But what really strikes Rex, what makes his breath catch in his throat, is how _happy_ Anakin looks. In all the time Rex had known him, Anakin had never once looked so at ease within himself, and so at peace with the universe around him. There were always shadows in his eyes, and a lingering sense that something about him was running right on the edge of tolerances, like that feeling Rex always got when something in his fighter was just about to break loose, before any of the computers showed a problem. But now...well, if Ahsoka had looked more right than he’d ever seen her, back in the spaceport, then the same was doubly true for Anakin.

When their boat reaches the shore, Anakin is waiting for them on the dock, and he catches the rope Ahsoka tosses to him and ties it in place. Then he comes over and offers Rex his hand.

“It’s good to see you, Rex,” he says, smiling widely as he helps Rex out onto the dock, giving his arm another squeeze for good measure. “Welcome to Varykino.” He offers Boil his hand as well. “And you too, Boil. I was wondering who Rex was bringing with him. Didn’t think it’d be you, though.”

“Well, it seems I was the only one available,” Boil says with a shrug. “Can’t say I’m complaining, though. This is a beautiful world you’ve got here, Skywalker.”

Anakin smiles again, his expression soft and warm. “Yeah. It is.” He turns a fond, proprietary look out over the lake, and Rex notices with a smirk that he’s not actually wearing any shoes. “No place more beautiful in all the galaxy.” Then he looks back to Boil and Rex. “But come on. You both must be hungry and tired after that long trip. I’ve had some refreshments laid out upstairs. Snips, you want to take their cases to the guest rooms?”

“Sure thing, Skyguy,” Ahsoka says. “I’ll be down to join you all in a bit, okay? We’ve got lots to catch up on.”

Anakin leads them up through the house, pointing out bits of architecture and artwork as they pass. He has to know that neither Rex nor Boil has any idea what he’s talking about, but there’s so much simple joy in his explanations that Rex can’t really bring himself to mind. They pass through a wide, open-air veranda, and Anakin pauses his explanation to simply smile privately to himself. Then he brings them down a short hallway, and into a comfortable sitting room full of low padded benches and large windows that look out over the lake. An array of cold foodstuffs is laid out on a table within easy reach of the benches, and a small brazier is keeping a pot of tea warm off to one side.

“Have a seat, and help yourselves,” Anakin invites, gesturing to one of the benches, and handing them both plates. He goes over to the brazier and pours two cups of the tea, offering them to Rex and Boil. Rex inhales deeply, the scent of unfamiliar spices filling his nose.

“Sorry I didn’t come to meet you at the spaceport,” Anakin says, pouring a third cup of tea, and settling down on another bench. “But if I didn’t get the first coat of varnish on the cradle today, there’s no way the nursery was going to be ready in time.”

“Nursery?” Rex looks up at Anakin in confusion, pausing in his perusal of the food.

“Padmé’s pregnant,” Ahsoka says from the doorway. “Which reminds me…” She tosses a credit chip to Rex, who catches it reflexively, and then she plops herself down on the bench nearest the door. “You won the bet. Turns out they’ve been _married_ since just after the first Battle of Geonosis.” She snags a piece of fruit from the table, and pointedly ignores Anakin’s spluttering. Boil looks between the two of them, shrugs, and resumes filling his plate.

Rex decides to take mercy on Anakin. “Congratulations, sir. I can’t say it’s exactly a surprise, but it’s good to know you and the Senator have things worked out between you, in spite of everything.”

Anakin coughs, and then smiles, only a little embarrassed. “Thanks for that, Rex. This isn’t exactly how I had planned to tell you,” he throws a pointed look at Ahsoka, “but it’s good not to have to keep it a secret from everyone these days, even if we do have to maintain some discretion.”

Rex smirks a little. “Discretion. Is that what you’ve been doing? Being discreet?”

“Hey,” Anakin protests, “we’ve been discreet enough. The political scene doesn’t seem to have noticed that Padmé has a husband hidden away in her family home on Naboo, anyway. And a good thing, too; without Padmé’s political career, there would have been no way for me to get that message to you, and we wouldn’t be having this conversation.”

“Right,” Rex says, putting his plate down. “I don’t mean to be rude, but as good as it is to catch up with you, sir, there is a reason we came all this way.”

Anakin sighs. “Yeah, I figured that. Well, might as get it out in the open, then. What is it, Rex? What did you need, that you had come find me for?”

“It’s...well, it’s General Kenobi.”

Anakin gives him a puzzled look. “Obi-Wan? What about Obi-Wan?” His expression darkens. “He’s not been mistreating you guys, has he? I know the Council hasn’t been the best influence on him, but I never would have thought…”

“No!” Rex exclaims, and he stares at Anakin in disbelief. How could he even _think_ that? “General Kenobi takes care of his men. You know that.”

“Yeah, well,” Anakin mutters. “There’s a lot of things I thought I knew about Obi-Wan that turned out not to be true.”

Rex narrows his eyes at him. “Look, I admit that I only know some of what went down between you and him, but I do know that he is not, and never has been, a danger to the men under his command.” Then he sighs. “It’s the danger to himself that’s the problem.”

Anakin stares at him, incomprehension plain on his face. “What?”

“He’s...he’s not been doing well since you two left, sir. He’s pushing himself too hard, and we can’t get him to rest, or even slow down. He’s throwing himself into the worst of the danger in every single battle. Half the time, he won’t even let us give him proper backup. And, well, he’s been getting hurt. A lot. Mostly nothing life threatening, but he’s ending up in medical almost every time. It would probably be _every_ time, except that we can’t always get him to even take the time to be treated, if he doesn’t think his injuries are severe.”

Anakin says nothing, his expression inscrutable. After a moment, Ahsoka cuts through the silence, asking, “Have you tried to talk to him about it, Rex? Has anyone?”

“I’ve tried to,” Rex sighs, wiping a weary hand down his face. “We all have. He just keeps saying it’s his duty to keep us all alive, and if he has to risk himself to do it, then so be it.” Rex looks over at Anakin. “He seems to think that he failed you both, and he’s got to make up for it somehow.”

“Well…” Anakin says after a long moment. “In some ways, he did.”

“Anakin…” Ahsoka protests.

“No!” Anakin snaps. “I know you think it wasn’t his fault, Ahsoka, but the fact is, the Council are the ones that threw you aside, that abandoned you when you needed the Jedi most. Obi-Wan is part of that Council, he did NOTHING.”

“That’s not true,” Rex says quietly.

Anakin rounds on him. “And how would you know?”

“Because,” Rex bites out, “while you’ve been hiding from the War here on the Outer Rim, I’ve been fighting it by his side. He told me!”

Rex’s comm chirps then, giving the signal for an incoming message, but he hits the ignore button without even fishing the thing out of his pocket, and presses on. “Look, I understand why you both had to leave, and I don’t blame you for it. But don’t you dare sit there and pretend that General Kenobi is somehow your enemy because he was trying to do his duty. He fought the kriffing Council for you as best as he could. And when they wouldn’t listen to him, he found another way.” He turns to face Ahsoka. “He was making plans, you know. About how to get you out if everything went to hell. He and one of the other Masters were going to use their Council clearance to smuggle you offworld, if needed. And for that plan to work, it had to be a SECRET.”

He turns back to Anakin, ignoring another beep from his comm, and practically shouts “And you would know that if you had ever kriffing well ASKED him about it! But instead, you disappeared without a single word to him, and you didn’t even bother to leave him a way to get a message to you later. And even after all that, he bloody well fought the Council _again_ to make sure you both had what you needed to keep yourselves safe, even away from the Jedi.”

Rex pauses and takes a deep breath, trying to rein in his temper. “And now he seems to think that he’s got to atone for the whole blasted business by taking all of the danger of this kriffing war on by himself, and if I can’t figure out how to get him to stop, he’s going to wind up dead. So you see, _sir_ , why I thought I should try and contact you. Because I figured if there was anyone in the universe that could keep Obi-Wan Kenobi from martyring himself, it would be you.”

The room seems to ring with the silence that follows. Ahsoka is looking at him in horror, and Anakin is frozen in place. Boil simply looks on, as though waiting to see which way the tide is going to turn.

The silence is broken by the sound of Rex’s comm beeping again. He sighs, pulls it out, and gets up. “Excuse me, sir. I should probably take this. I’ll be back in a moment.”

Anakin nods absently, like he can barely even see Rex. “Yeah, of course, go ahead.”

Rex walks down the short hallway, steps out onto the veranda, and flicks the receive button on his comm. His hollow display activates, showing a figure wearing robes like a Jedi. It’s odd; he’s sure he’s never seen this Jedi before, but it’s like some part of him knows them.

“The time has come, Captain Rex. Execute Order 66.”

For an instant, Rex just stares. What in all the hells is Order 66? There’s no order by that number. But then…

_Good soldiers follow orders._

There’s a voice in his head, like no voice he’s ever known. But kriffing hells, it’s so loud!

_Execute the traitors._

What traitors? Anakin and Ahsoka may not be in the military anymore, but they’ve always been loyal to the Republic, even when it betrayed them. And there’s no one else here. What could the voice possibly be…

 _Kill the Jedi_!

Oh, fuck no! No kriffing way is he killing any Jedi! Of all the stupid, ridiculous things for some voice in his head to say. But his body is moving. He’s turning around, and walking back into the sitting room, and….oh no. No. This can’t be happening.

_Good soldiers follow orders good soldiers follow orders good soldiers follow orders…_

It’s like he’s watching from behind his own eyes, and something else is moving his body, ordering him around like a kriffing clanker. He’s walking back down that hall, and there is the door to the sitting room, and he CAN’T STOP.

Boil is standing outside that door, waiting for him. “What’s the word, Captain?”

Rex wants to tell him that something is horribly wrong, that someone has gotten inside his head and he has to be stopped before they make him do something unforgivable. But all that comes out of his mouth is “Execute Order 66.”

Boil just stares at him in incomprehension. “I don’t follow, sir. What’s Order 66? There’s no standard order by that name. Is it new?”

It doesn’t matter, though, because he can see Ahsoka seated on one of the benches just inside that room. Ahsoka who is (mystery novels and late night conversations and his FRIEND) a Jedi. And the voice says the Jedi must die.

He shoves his way past Boil, and steps inside. Ahsoka’s back is to him, and her guard is down. She won’t even see him coming.

_Good soldiers follow orders._

He draws his blaster, and behind him, he hears Boil splutter, “What the kriffing FUCK, Rex?” He see Anakin look up at him in confusion.

_KILL THE JEDI._

Just as he goes to fire, he is tackled from behind. The part of him that is still _him_ is so, so grateful, even as his body struggles to break free, to take that shot.

Then invisible hands seem to pin him to the floor, and Anakin is advancing upon him, one hand reaching out towards Rex, and the other drawing his lightsaber and holding it ready.

“I’ve got him, Boil. Grab the runners off those side tables and tie him up for me, will you?”

“Yes, sir!” Boil says automatically, and his weight leaves Rex as he rushes to obey.

“Now,” Anakin says, looking Rex in the eye, “do you want to explain what in all the Sith Hells _that_ was about?”

“Good ...soldiers...follow orders,” Rex gasps. He feels his hands jerked roughly behind him as Boil returns with the runners and binds his wrists with the sturdy silk. “Good soldiers follow orders. Good soldiers follow orders good soldiers follow…”

Then, through the cacophony in his head, he hears Tano scream. _Please_ , the small part of his mind that is still his own begs. _Please don’t let me have hit her._

He sees Anakin flinch, and then all the color drains from his face. “Oh, no. Sweet Force, NO.”

“The Jedi,” Ahsoka whimpers. “Oh, Anakin, the Jedi!”

Anakin stumbles back towards the bench, and sits down hard upon it, his eyes wide and unseeing. His still unlit ‘saber drops from a suddenly lax hand to rest on the thick carpet at his feet.

“Depa,” he whispers. “Saesee. Stass. Eeth.”

“Aayla,” Ahsoka sobs. “Shaak. Kit. Ki-Adi.”

Their litany continues, but Rex can only hear it in snatches. The voice in his mind is growing louder and louder. His head is aching with it, pounding in time to the words.

_Kill the Jedi. Kill the Jedi. Kill the Jedi. Kill the Jedi._

Finally, just before the voice overwhelms him completely, he hears Anakin whisper, “But not Obi-Wan. I didn’t feel Obi-Wan. Ahsoka! ‘Soka, listen to me. Did you feel Obi-Wan?”

And Rex wants to take comfort in that, in the hope that whatever this thing is, it didn’t manage to touch either of his Generals. But there is no room for comfort around the words...

_Good soldiers follow orders._

He falls into darkness, swept away by the tidal wave in his head.


End file.
